Break
by Alyssa Morgan
Summary: I am lying broken on the floor. Darkness swirls through my mind like a typhoon. Based on a book called Cut, by Patricia McCormick.
1. Broken

I lay broken on the floor, an empty mass of black swirling like a typhoon in my mind. I wait for death to come for me. Two years ago, I would have laughed at myself. Two years ago, I would've gotten off the floor and executed such morbid thoughts from my mind. Two years ago, I was happy, I was sober. I was not this. I was not even close to what I was slowly but surely becoming now.

I felt around from something strong, something solid, to grasp on to. I felt the counter surface. I held on for dear life as I staggered upward. I felt my head become light, and I almost fell back down. I could see broken glass and an open bottle of pills scattered on the linoleum. A rush of fright shocked through my body. I hurried to put buck the colored capsules and seal the container. I fell to the floor and caught myself, my hands hitting the floor. I gasped in shock and pain. I sat crosslegged and looked at the palm of my hand. Several small gashes were beginning to ooze blood on the soft fleshy part of my hand. I couldn't get up. I struggled, but I was in too much pain to move. I tried to get up once more, but I fell back. My head began beating with immense, irrevocable pain.

Then, it was dark.


	2. It Goes a Little Something Like This

"Liss? Lissa? Are you awake?" My mother's familiar concerned voice shatters the vacant silence. I don't answer. I have never let my mother see the shattered heart inside of me for fear that it will only upset or disappoint her. Now, I can sense disappointment, concern, and above all things, confusion, running amok in the hospital room. I feel icy skin wiping my dirty blond hair from my forehead.

"She'll be just fine, Miss Moore. Now please, your daughter needs rest. I'll alert you if her condition changes," an awkward male voice promised.

"Thank you, Doctor." I could hear the tears choking her voice, and for the first time in two years, I felt a pain of guilt for my mother.

I didn't hear her walk to the door, but I heard the door click shut. I shooted up, taking the sheets with me. The doctor looked alarmed at me.

"Miss Moore? I must go and get your mother!" He rushed to the door. I chased after him and grabbed the doorknob just as he reached the door.

"No." He looked taken aback.

"You're just a girl. You've no idea what you're saying," he sputtered. I glared at him, and he sighed, defeated.

"Oh, all right then. What do you want?" he asked.

"I want to be heard." He smiled.

"Very well. I'm here to listen," he said.

"My story is different than most others," I warned him. "It goes a little something like this......."


	3. So, So Very Much

"I was born with beautiful blond hair and perfect almond shaped brown eyes, clearly my mother's daughter. I was made in her likeness," I began. "My mother loved me, my aunts and uncles adored me, and my grandparents saw me as the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. I was popular with everyone. Everyone, that is, except my father. I wanted Daddy to call me an angel, I wanted him to tuck me in at night, to say a simple, 'I love you.' I got nothing but angry words and bruises," I spat bitterly.

"I'm-" the doctor began. I wagged my finger in his face.

"You said you were going to listen," I interrupted sternly. I went on as normal. "My parents divorced when I was six years old. The only thing my father ever gave to me was this." I held up the back of my hospital gown. The Doctor winced at the sight of the injury. A long scabbed over gash started the right corner of my back and went all the way down to my left hip. "I won't explain how I got this, but just know that it is there."

"Let's skip ahead four years. When I was ten years old, I began feeling sad. I was depressed every day for the next year and a half. Then, my mother accidentally left a knife on the table. Just a small blade, not very big. But oh my, was it sharp. I slid it over my wrist several times. It felt amazing, thrilling. I began hiding razors in my room and I would cut myself all day, everyday. Things only got worse from there. I became so covered in cuts that by summertime, I could no longer wear swimsuits, tank tops, or shorts. I wore jeans and a hoodie all the time. My mom didn't understand what was going on, and although she asked me everyday what was wrong, I never spoke the truth. I lied to her about everything, like where the razors were, why I didn't go swimming, and why I no longer hung out with my friends. The truth was that the razors were hidden in my room, I didn't go swimming because of the cuts, and I didn't hang out with my friends because I was too busy slowly killing myself. I told my mother that I hadn't seen the razors, I didn't go swimming because I was aquaphobic, and I didn't hang out with my friends because they had really busy schedules.

"I think Mother always knew I was lying, but she was afraid of the truth," I said. "I never talked to her, not once, in two whole years. I thought that if I gave her the chance to know me, that maybe she would be disappointed. i didn't want her to think of herself as a bad parent. At age fourteen, I began going out really late and not coming home til two in the morning. Mostly I was at a nightclub called Eclipse. I could pass for twenty-one. I had my first drink at Eclipse. I began coming home drunk every night. One night I came home throwing my guts up. Mother called the school and told them I was sick. I had nasty hangovers at school and on the weekends. On Sundays, Mother made us go to church. Everyone but her knew what was going on. Everyone avoided me. I don't know if it was because they knew the truth or if they were scared of me. I had bags under my eyes that no skin renewal cream could erase. My skin was gaunt, my hair was gnarled, and I always wore the same high-collared, long sleeved, floor length black dress. It had antique lace at the collar and sleeves. I wore combat boots with it. I must have looked a mess," I thought aloud. "One day, an elderly lady pulled me aside after church and she said to me, 'What happened here? You used to be so bright, so full of faith. What happened?' she repeated. I ignored her. The next day, she died. I showed no remorse for what I'd done to her!" I screamed. I could feel the tears now. Nothing was holding them back. "I didn't give a damn that I had pushed her away! I didn't give a damn!" I choked on the tears rising and falling in my throat. I wiped them away only to feel fresh ones spill down my cheeks.

"Things got worse. I started getting so wasted that I didn't come home for weeks. Mother was really involved with her new booyfriend though, so she didn't miss me too much. I was practically raising myself. Two months ago, things got even worse. I started smoking and cussing and drinking and cutting myself in front of my mom. I didn't care that I was hurting her. To me, I was happy, happier than I'd ever been. I wasn't going tolet my mom influence my happiness," I told the Doctor. "I'm hurting her by hurting myself. But when hurting yourself feels so good, who are you to say you aren't helping yourself?" I asked him. He looked surprised.

"I don't know. Do you want death?" he asked me.

I thought for a minute, then answered back, "Oh yes. So, so very much."


	4. Jesus, Save Me!

I imagined the Doctor would be nothing if not surprised by my words. But I was wrong.

Staying calm, he asked me why. "Why do you want death?" he asked me.

I thought very hard for a moment. "I don't have reason enough to live anymore. My father hates me, I don't have any friends, my mother doesn't understand. She probably never will. Why should I hang on to life when I'm pactically dead already? Why should I wait for a reason to live when I have every right and reason in the book to die?" I asked him angrily.

"That settles that, I suppose," the doctor mumbled under his breath. Then he whispered something into a small microphone. I waited cautiously. A woman with thin graying hair dressed in a spotless white lab coat wheeled in a wheelchair and looked pointedly at the Doctor. He ordered me to sit down. As soon as I did, he came at me with a needle. I was frightened now. I hadn't agreed to this. i put up a struggle, but in the end I was gasping in pain as my world went dark and a cloud of black erased all my thoughts. I dreamt such a beautiful dream. When i finally woke up, I screamed the words I had never been able to tell anyone before now. "Jesus, save me!"


End file.
